The Troubles
by annsan
Summary: Written for Reverse Bang; thanks to Seleya/Hinky Hippo for the artwork that woke the muse. Gibbs's gut is explained in a very different way. Gibbs has a gift that has been with him for most of his life. It's a warning system - if he chooses to use it as such.
**The Troubles**

He should have expected it. Their sound, presence had heralded a majority of the heart breaking events in his life. Yet again, he'd failed to heed the warning and was now paying the price.

He couldn't actually remember when he first was aware of their visits. Although he was old enough, he had no real memory of when he lost his mom. He'd been a different person before that day. Loved. Happy. Living life as if he didn't have a care in the world and could do and be whatever he wanted. That day had been the gate between his carefree youth and what became a very troubled adolescence. He'd lived in a rage daily. His temper at a boiling point from the moment he opened his eyes until he grudgingly closed them again at the end of the day.

His relationship with his father had deteriorated from that event on. Jack was hurting from the loss as well but Gibbs couldn't see that, wouldn't see that. His father's friends, even the teen's namesake, tried to talk to him but the only thing that mattered was the rage churning inside and how he could expel it. Physical fights, verbal taunting, whatever he thought he could get away with; he took the opportunity to try. He counted the days until he was old enough to blow out of the quintessential small town America he was stuck in and make his mark on the world.

He'd seen her before. Of that he was certain. Knew at first glance that he'd never forget her. But he'd still been too consumed by rage to even think of walking up to her. Plus she'd seemed to disappear from the window of the store she worked in whenever he was out getting into fights and other types of trouble. Funny how someone he didn't know could make him feel ashamed of his attitude and behavior without a word of introduction ever being spoken between them. When he saw her at the train station, his pulse had sped up and he could feel the sweat forming under his cover.

His dream was coming true. He was leaving home to join the Marines. Well, not that the Marines were his dream but he'd use them as a vehicle to escape. He was due to board the train that would return him to boot camp. He approached the bench opposite of where the lovely red head was seated and sat as straight as had been drilled into him during his brief introduction to military life.

Her words, her 'code to live by', her intensity filled him with a sense of warmth and security. His heart fluttered in his chest as it pounded in his ears. He knew Shannon would become the most important piece of his world eventually.

His life was a dream, a wonderful dream that he hoped to never awaken from. He loved being a Marine, serving his country. His life had purpose, meaning - and love, due to the gorgeous redhead who had agreed to spend her life with him. Pulling his old truck against the curb of the base residence that was currently their home; Gibbs exited and hurried inside, anxious to see if Shannon was feeling any better than she'd been that morning.

Finding her in the kitchen by the stove, he walked up behind to give her a hug. Shannon leaned back, nestling her head between his neck and shoulder.

"Feeling better?" Gibbs whispered.

"Hmmmm….now I am. How was your day?"

"Long and frustrating. Answer the question, Shan."

"I'll be fine, Gibbs. Let me finish making dinner."

Soon Shannon had a meal ready to go to the table. As Gibbs sat down, he noticed there was already something on his plate. He picked up the small piece of plastic and turned it around and over as he tried to figure out what it was. He heard Shannon's soft snort as she came up next to him and took the object from his hand.

"Really, Gibbs? Hold it this way and look here."

He stared at it blankly as his brain tried to process what he understood he should know. Hearing Shannon giggle, he looked up into her bright smile.

"Gibbs, really? What does the plus sign mean?"

Then it hit him! They were going to be parents! 

The nine months and subsequent years seemed to fly by in a state of pure bliss for Gibbs. His love for his fiery redhead had grown as fast as their precious daughter, Kelly. His girls were the light of his life, his reason for living. They'd also been the orchestrators of peace and a newfound relationship with his father. Jackson doted on his granddaughter and clearly loved Shannon as well.

Then the world went crazy and the Middle East was enveloped in a war. Gibbs knew he was going to be sent over there and the small family packed in the memories, desperate to make enough to last a lifetime. Then one day his orders came and Shannon took on the haunted look of a spouse certain her husband was going to his death.

The call to deploy came late one night after he'd put Kelly to bed. As always, Gibbs mostly listened, committing the details to memory. As he hung up the phone, he felt the warmth of his wife as she stood next to him. 

"When?" 

"Tomorrow. Gotta leave here by noon."

Shannon nodded before turning into Gibbs and putting her arms around him, holding tight. At least they had tonight – and she knew very well that was all she had. Once she realized what was happening, Kelly would want her daddy's attention tomorrow until he had to leave.

When the time came for Gibbs to pack the truck and head to the base, he hugged Shannon hard and long as she held him just as desperately. "Watch your back, Gibbs," she whispered into his shoulder.

"Always. Got to make sure I come back to my girls."

Gibbs had already held & kissed Kelly goodbye, so he slowly broke away from Shannon and headed to the pickup. Kelly running forward, begging him not to go, wrapping her arms around his waist like she never wanted to let go would stay with him throughout his deployment. He'd tried to reassure her but she seemed inconsolable. His last image of his girls was a glimpse in the rear view mirror of Shannon clutching their daughter. As he boarded the plane to ship out, his ears and mind were inundated with sound and memories – his daughter's voice begging him not to go, the over-powering sound of the plane's engines as they came to life and the sound that would be his constant companion over the next months, the low flap of birds' wings in his ears.

Gibbs was escorted from security by a younger man who seemed in awe of his cane and severe limp. He couldn't help but wonder if the youngster with the exuberant smile and bouncy walk was really a federal agent or just a college kid working a summer job. Exiting the elevator, wishing he knew where he was going so he could dismiss his guide, Gibbs found himself in a large room with many short, padded, cubicle walls and garish orange paint on the walls. 

The face that looked up at him from the desk the boy had brought him to was grizzled, well-lined, and irritated. The man barked something at the boy and he hurriedly stepped back to a desk diagonal from where Gibbs stood.

Gibbs needed to know exactly what had happened to Shannon and Kelly along with what was being done to catch the bastard that had destroyed his life had led him to NIS. He'd been told that an Agent Franks was leading the investigation, as it had been his agent who had died with Gibbs's family.

"Are you Agent Franks?" 

"Depends on who you are."

"Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. I came here for answers and was told you'd be the one to give them to me."

Franks eyed the younger man over and knew he was ready to collapse from exhaustion and pain, a pain that was more than physical. Had Franks not been an old school bastard, he would have taken the Marine into a conference room and offered him coffee but that wasn't his style. Instead he grunted and looked back down at the file he'd been paging thru. 

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not. What I know is that I'm very busy and not sure your questions even deserve answers, kid."

Gibbs had intended to hold his temper and be respectful, as Shannon would have demanded he be, but this old codger was testing his patience and he'd avoided taking his pain medication this morning so that he could remain in control. He took a deep breath, hearing the low hum of noise begin in his head, a sure signal that something was about to go down as the sound had been since he was a kid.

"Mr. Franks, my name is Gibbs and you are investigating the murder of my family. I *need* some answers, Sir. I need to know that the scumbag will be brought to justice for ruining our lives and taking them from me."

Franks glanced up, intent on reminding the man exactly who he was. He paused as he got a good look at the expression on his face and in his steel blue eyes. There was soul-deep grief there, but there was also a hardened resolve – something that Franks saw as a tool he could use if he played his cards right. He allowed his eyes to move to the other desk and he ordered his agent to take an early lunch. He rose as the young man scurried off and resumed staring at the soldier in front of him.

"As you must know, NIS lost an agent when your family was gunned down, so we are doing everything the law allows capturing the man responsible for their deaths."

Gibbs was silent as he process the information. The noise in his head grew as did his trepidation and confusion. He knew he was being told something other than the official answers most agents would give him but he couldn't completely process it. 

"The law allows for a murderer to pay with his own life, I thought."

"Normally."

Gibbs couldn't prevent the growl that escaped his mouth as he glared at the man in front of him. He knew he was about to be told that something would prevent Shannon and Kelly's killer from having justice delivered onto him. He knew it and his emotions were soaring nearly out of control.

Franks watched the widower carefully, satisfaction building as he noted the facial expression change minutely. He might be prevented from seeing this case thru to its proper conclusion, but he knew if he was careful in how he played this, that the end result would still be the same.

"Citizens of other countries are allowed a certain amount of protection in their home countries, Sergeant. This agency is bound to respect that no matter what we'd prefer to see happen." Franks rose as he played with the order of the case folders on his desk, seemingly picky one at random and opening it haphazardly.

"We'll do all we can but it's quite possible that this file will end up in the cold case storage area. I know it's not fair but legally our hands are tied and it's not like we can just execute him ourselves. I'll be back. Running on coffee means I gotta take a leak too often."

He was hot to the point of heat stroke or maybe it was heat exhaustion. He no longer knew or cared. Not when he was this close to the end. He'd been driven to get the justice he'd been told was impossible and in doing so, he'd broken laws, ignored protocol and his duty. Now he lay belly down on a hill, watching the road thru his scope, waiting for the scum that had ruined his life. The blood pounded in his head and the noise of flapping wings filled his ears, despite there be no sign of life anywhere around. Spotting the old pickup truck, Gibbs adjusted his position and waited for the vehicle to come out of the bush to line up his shot. Within moments, he fired and a man was dead, the vehicle rolling to a rest against a boulder.

He collapsed in the sand, the sound of many wings flapping roaring in his ears. The dirt on his face smeared by the tears flowing from pain-filled eyes. He'd done it – gotten his revenge on the man who had ruined his life and destroyed his heart. He'd expected to feel relief, even jubilation upon doing what NIS had been unable or unwilling to do. Not more pain and grief, and that soul deep emptiness that had been his constant companion since he'd woken in the hospital.

Joining NIS after he'd recovered from his injuries and realized a return to the Marines was not possible seemed like an obvious choice. He was a bit surprised to find himself assigned to Agent Franks's team but he shrugged it off and soaked up all the wisdom the man was willing to feed him.

Coming off his second divorce, the covert missions outlined for him by the assistant director seemed like a perfect way to escape the irritation and disappointment that had been his constant companion since they'd completed the court proceedings. Hearing that he'd travel to France for the first mission was a bonus since it got him a complete change of scenery. He'd hurried home to his nearly stripped bare house to pack and close up the residence, anxious to put some distance between himself and his latest failure.

He hadn't expected to meet his match in a fiery redhead though. Jenny was every bit the spitfire his Shannon had been yet with none of gentleness and love that had lived in his wife's heart. Her naiveté in covert ops nearly gave him a pause yet Jenny seemed so anxious to learn, to win his approval and praise – to get him into bed – that he ignored all the warnings and just jumped in headfirst in the mission and the affair. The crash and burn, both professionally and personally, were nothing less than spectacular and led him to add another rule to the ones he'd adopted from Shannon: Rule # 12 – NEVER date a co-worker.

It didn't take long for him to dive into another mission. Being without a team and with the director not wanting him to work alone, Gibbs really had no other choice. He hoped to actually spend some time in the states soon though so he could actually find agents to work with.

At least this time he wasn't traveling alone. Stephanie, his new wife, had insisted on going with him. He wasn't sure how he felt about that – jumbled were his thoughts and emotions. But he knew he'd be gone for a couple of months and he really wanted to give this marriage a chance to work. Taking her along had seemed the easiest way to go.

The mission was long and tiring. Meeting and working with Callen had been a bright spot. Getting back to DC, he found himself thrown deep into a difficult case. He was consumed by the thrill of the chase and the complexity of the killer. His every waking moment, and often his dreams from the look on Stephnie's face most mornings, were filled with reviewing the evidence, chasing down leads and trying to determine how this lunatic picked his victims. It also ended up costing him yet another marriage, a fact he'd learned shortly before he'd made the arrest when he came home to nothing.

"You can't outrun me! I'm wearing tube socks!"

The words nearly caused Gibbs to stop running to see how old the kid who claimed to be a cop really was. Before he could put on another burst of speed, he found the ground rising up to meet him & a solid weight pressing down against him as he fell. Looking up, he was mesmerized by the face above his. Blood roared, or wings flapped, in his ears signaling trouble was sure to be found ahead.

The trouble he found was of the good kind this time. In the Baltimore detective, Gibbs found a partner, the yin to his yang and someone who could handle his moods and his singular focus on finding justice for those left behind. Recruiting DiNozzo from BPD had been easy once Gibbs realized that the man's partner wasn't on the up and up.

The director had made his hiring contingent on his passing the required training at FLETC once he'd seen the man's application, employment history and college transcripts. Gibbs growled in frustration, unwilling to put up with the TADs he'd been saddled with since Stan Burley had transferred. His gut churned as he wondered what Morrow had seen in the paperwork that Gibbs had not been privy to. Little did he know that Morrow was simply being thorough so that no one could question any step taken in the hiring process because he knew that the detective was beyond competent and could easily jump thru the Federal red tape and hoops to even sit in his own chair one day. He wanted to make sure that no one could successfully argue any position that DiNozzo obtained within the agency, even if it was done by Gibbs's less than by-the-book methods.

Fortunately DiNozzo sailed through the required training. When he arrived at the Naval Yard, he expected to see his new boss and a team of a few other agents to work with. Instead he found Gibbs at his desk with no one around him.

"Bout time you got here, DiNozzo. Dead body; Rock Creek Park – let's go, Rookie!"

The investigation took three days before they broke it open and made an arrest. Parading the suspect through the bullpen towards interrogation, Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. "Let's go, DiNozzo. Get in viewing so you can learn."

Tony paused and fixated on his boss's moving back. When he glanced up, he saw many eyes from around the room staring at him. He exhaled and walked on, knowing what he had to do.

Returning from interrogation with a signed confession in hand, Gibbs couldn't help but look rather smug. Breaking the dirt bag had been far too easy. He'd wanted to have more time to teach his new agent about the way a Gibbs-style interrogation went.

He turned around to remind DiNozzo that he needed his report done ASAP, he nearly stumbled as he halted. Tony was right behind him, almost in his face. He raised his eyebrow in silent question.

Tony held out a single sheet of paper, which Gibbs reluctantly took. "Agent Gibbs, I just thought you might need a little reminder of the amount of experience as an LEO that I had before you hired me. Now if you'll look at that sheet, it highlights all of the major arrests I've had a hand in throughout my career. Keep in mind that when there's an arrest, there's usually an interrogation – which I, as the arresting officer, would have conducted. While I appreciate that there are specifics that are done differently in the Federal or military system, I really don't think I need to be referred to as a 'rookie' or told that I need to watch an interrogation to learn it, Sir."

Both men were well aware that they had the attention of most of the other agents just as Tony had been aware of it when Gibbs had spoken to him earlier. Tony continued to stare at his boss, wondering what his response would be and if he'd just screwed the proverbial pooch.

Unknown to both of them, the director had exited his office and was on the ledge observing the exchange. He eyed his senior agent carefully. Gibbs wasn't moving, had no expression on his face. This normally did not bode well for whomever he was attempting to stare into submission. Morrow started going through open postings in his mind, trying to see if he had anything he could move DiNozzo into rather than lose him so soon after getting him.

Just when everyone watching expected a huge explosion, Gibbs let a small grin appear and took a step towards his desk. "Well then, DiNozzo, hope you can pull a report together that's as succinct and detailed as this list."

Bodies collectively exhaled breaths no one realized they were holding. Tony broke into a big grin and hurried over to his desk. As Morrow turned to head back to his office, he caught sight of Gibbs looking down at a file, trying desperately to hide a grin.

The two-man MCRT slowly settled into a comfortable working relationship. Those seated close to their area couldn't help but whisper to themselves about the changes they saw in the temperamental team lead with the ex-cop on board. Others, some of whom had coveted a spot on the agency's main team, saw the little green monster burn inside them. Inevitably, scuttlebutt flew and there were others who took it upon themselves to haze DiNozzo, some in fun and some rather maliciously. Nothing seemed to get to him though and when solve rates were announced at the end of the year, a grudging respect grew for the ex-cop who not only seemed to have formed a fledgling friendship with a man many in the agency couldn't stand to be on the elevator with but also seemed to handle the many different tasks of a fully-staffed team with ease and still manage to solve the cases assigned to them.

Months turned into a couple of years. Gibbs had managed to drive off several TAD agents as well as an FBI transfer. Morrow was getting frustrated. He wanted the MCRT to at least have three people – less of a chance of Gibbs either pissing off DiNozzo or working him to the ground. He saw the future of his agency in this young man and intended to safe guard it.

He was about to go out to speak to his secretary to find out when Gibbs and DiNozzo were returning from a case they were working in Kansas when she buzzed his phone to let him know the FBI director was calling. Automatically he reached for a nearby bottle of antacid with one hand as he picked up the handset with the other.

With the addition of the former Secret Service agent whose focus was profiling, Morrow felt like the team was complete. Granted he was not fond of how Gibbs had gone about adding the agent, but he was willing to overlook various procedures if all worked out in the end.

Down in the bullpen, the team was returning from a scene. Gibbs had a fresh cup of coffee in hand but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had enveloped him. Less than twenty-four hours later they were investigating the murder of a colleague and Gibbs was guilt-ridden and silent pondering why he hadn't known something was going to happen. He'd sensed the sound of the wings shortly before he and DiNozzo had boarded the plane with the jumpers; had been hyper aware on the flight down to Guantanamo yet had felt nothing when he'd had conversations with Chris Pacci just the other day.

He pushed the team harder than normal. The very young and very green computer tech agent was a stuttering mess around him. Gibbs couldn't understand what Tony saw in the kid. He'd have to make sure to disabuse DiNozzo of the urge to have him return again after they'd gotten Chris's killer locked tight in a cell.

The sound in his ears had been a low hum since he first growled at DiNozzo. He'd ignored it in favor of growling more at the one person who seemed to understand him. Tony, for his part, had tried everything he knew to relieve the tension in the bullpen. Gibbs's horrid mood wasn't making solving the case any easier but, as normal, he didn't seem to see that. McGee was a stuttering, deer-in-the-headlights mess who was managing to hit every button Gibbs had. In return, Gibbs had focused on his senior field agent and DiNozzo was grateful to be sent back to the bar if for no other reason than to escape the sharp, hurtful digs the boss had been throwing his way.

Calling Gibbs while on his way to the car after leaving the bar, Tony knew he was in trouble and he had a strange need to apologize to his boss for letting him down. Back in the bullpen, Gibbs was going over the case notes for probably the hundredth time and had already barked at both Kate and McGee. He was contemplating another coffee run when his cell began to ring. As he reached to pick it up off his desk, the low hum in his head increased exponentially.

He heard the meaning and emotion behind the words more than he heard what Tony was saying to him. Then he picked up the sounds of his agent collapsing, the phone falling to hard ground. He strained to hear sounds of someone being dragged as he reached to grab his car keys and weapon.

By the time they found Tony in the maze of underground sewers, the sound of the wings over powered any other noise around them. Gibbs was frantic yet he couldn't let it show. As he and Kate listened to Tony bargaining for Atlas's life, frantic turned to pride. Yet the noises of the wings didn't calm until he had his agent back in the car with him. Able to think clearly and without his ever- present personal warning system, Gibbs headed out of the elevator trying to hide the grin over Kate's comments about Tony's smell.

Turning around, he stopped and stopped Tony with his mere presence. Telling Tony he was irreplaceable was easy but he couldn't help the comment to McGee as he walked away. He was in far too good a mood to just let the moment remain sentimental.

The year seemed to fly by. McGee slowly settled in to being a part of the team. Gibbs knew it was due to Tony's wacky method of training that McGee was able to tell and Under Secretary to 'stick it' when the team was struggling to find a smuggler, rare antiques brought out of Iraq and DiNozzo, who had yet again managed to get himself in trouble and danger. Gibbs himself was having to deal with a very irritating, touchy-feely Kate, who suddenly wanted to talk about feelings and worry.

Didn't she realize he had far too many other things to worry about than emotions? The situation with the antiques was a political FUBAR in the making. He had the idiot constantly calling trying to buy a car he didn't even own and now he just had someone prank calling him constantly. The icing on the cake was Abby learning that the prisoner DiNozzo had been chained to was a serial killer had sent Gibbs's blood pressure soaring and his secret harbingers of stress and woe flapping so loudly that he could no longer think clearly.

He slammed on the brakes as he swerved to the side of the road. The prank calls! He should have realized that DiNozzo would think of something as juvenile as that. Minutes later, they were speeding down the road again with Kate clutching whatever she felt she could get a firm grip on. If she'd had the breath to ask Gibbs then, he probably would have admitted that he was speeding because this time he was desperately afraid that they would not get to DiNozzo in time.

Finding Tony in the older car with blood spatter all over the windows chilled him to the soul. It had taken all of his inner strength to walk near the vehicle, weapon drawn. The sounds in his head didn't begin to subside until he opened the door and saw movement, then saw Tony head swivel in his direction. He sighed, knowing that all would be well soon and he wondered again as to why he was so in tune with DiNozzo that he was the one who set off his internal alarms.

Gibbs looked across the rooftop, jaws clenched in ire, shock and hurt. He didn't understand! Just weeks ago, he'd arrived at the office and before he'd finished his second cup of coffee, the noise of the wings flapping had filled his head, rising to an almost crescendo as he watched the white powder fly from envelope and descend around Tony. The sound had then quieted and built in volume throughout the day as he, Cassie and McGee pushed themselves to figure out what the powder, who sent it and how to cure it. Hearing that scientist give Tony only a 15% chance nearly destroyed him. It wasn't until he stormed through the isolation doors passed that doctor with the ridiculous name to order Tony to not die that he finally felt better and the wings flapping so heavily all around him began to settle down.

Yet today he'd had nothing! No warning! No sounds of wings! In the space of time that it took Tony to compliment Kate and Gibbs to agree, she was lying dead on the rooftop with a bullet hole in her forehead. He didn't understand why he'd not been warned. But he knew that he wouldn't stop, wouldn't rest until that bastard, Haswari, was lying in much the same position.

As he walked slowly into the bullpen for the first time in months, Jethro knew he was still missing a lot of details. But he needed this return, the stability that leading his team brought. He remember most of his more recent past. The memories, whether good or bad, had helped to ease the horrific ache that was still with him whenever he thought of Shannon and Kelly.

He associated the memories with his team and found the activity helped him to keep them straight, identity wise and place of importance in his life.

Just a few weeks after he'd officially returned to NCIS, his mentor came to town. Franks met the team and seemed to take a liking to both Ziva and McGee. DiNozzo looked at him funny, as if he didn't and couldn't trust him and Franks seemed to return the favor. When it looked like Mike's life was in danger, Gibbs automatically put DiNozzo on protection detail. Learning that the detail was a failure and his agent had been knocked out cold had pissed him off. He couldn't understand why the paramedics were making such a big deal of it. There were bigger things to worry about than DiNozzo having a headache. Deep inside he had a nagging feeling that he should know it was a big deal and why. He shoved it ruthlessly down in favor of worrying about his mentor possibly already being executed by the Russian mobster. 

Tony entering the building almost immediately after Franks had shot the mobster had been too fortuitous for Gibbs to not suspect that his agent had come to some conclusions that he shouldn't have. Gibbs knew what he'd allowed Franks to do, but he **owed** the man more than he could ever repay. He'd take care of DiNozzo and protect his boss. 

Gibbs, McGee and Ziva were in MTAC with Jenny, trying to trail Tony's car. The halting story that the director definitely hadn't wanted to reveal had shocked McGee and Ziva and pissed off Gibbs. What kind of personal vendetta had she gotten his agent involved in? He stood in front of the large screen, waiting for McGee to work his magic with the director at his side. He knew she wanted to talk, to reason with him and get him to see that she'd done what was necessary. He was in no mood to listen though. He was far too focused on the screen, trailing the classic Mustang with his eyes, wondering why he swore he heard wings flapping all around him yet there was no sign of birds on the screen and definitely none in the room. As Tony's car was spotted turning a corner the flapping noise got immeasurably louder. Suddenly light exploded on the screen as the car they'd been watching exploded into flames. The noise in head grew louder, blocking out all other sound and voices. DiNozzo was dead – after so many years of working with the man, shared memories, Tony being the only one to warrant the warning system his girls had for so long. Why hadn't he felt, heard , remembered earlier? Was his inaction responsible? 

Hours later, learning Tony had not only survived but was back with them, listening to the debriefing session the director held with him, Gibbs felt as if he'd been given another chance to make up for so many wrongs since he'd returned from Mexico. He knew he needed to talk to DiNozzo and hoped he'd be able to turn things around.

In LA, confronting a long buried ghost, Gibbs should have realized he wasn't on top of his game. Had he been, he might have caught the lies of omission being told to him by Ziva regarding Rivkin and her knowledge of him. He'd dropped the ball on that and, returning to DC, continued to rely on Tony to keep track of her. 

Tony sensed something was wrong and tried his best to keep his boss protected from the ugliness that was obviously headed their way. Hearing from Abby that Ziva's role was much deeper than they'd surmised, Tony had headed off to talk to their recalcitrant team member, hoping to get the truth from her and to make sure she understood all that she was currently risking.

Gibbs was in his basement, yet not working on his boat or indulging in a jar of bourbon. He felt too uneasy, more so than he had over the last several days. A soft sound, the flapping of a single pair of wings sounding in his mind alerted him to the upcoming danger, prevented him from indulging in his nightly escape. His body tensed as his phone rang and he stared at Ziva's phone number lighting up his screen.

Flying to Tel Aviv with a pissed-off Ziva, injured, wary-looking DiNozzo and a toothpick-chomping director was not Gibbs's idea of an enjoyable way to spend the next several days. He tried to keep an eye on his team, more worried about them than the director. Ziva's expression was a mask of hurt and anger. He thought he detected a hint of fear as well. DiNozzo's face was devoid of any emotion. He looked almost like a prisoner walking his final steps before execution.

From the moment DiNozzo was driven away in a car with just Ziva and another Mossad officer, Gibbs's gut churned and his 'warning wings' flapped softly in his head. Seeing him best Eli David at his own game made him swell with pride, yet he was instantly concerned when Ziva stormed out. He honestly didn't see either of them until the next day when they were scheduled to fly back. Ziva had chosen to stay with her father and he never knew where Tony had been kept no matter how many times he'd asked. He was nearly happy when they were driven to the airport the next morning but his apprehension, and the sound of wings in his head, grew when he saw how carefully Tony got out of the vehicle. Gibbs turned to question him when they all saw another vehicle pull up. Gibbs, Vance and Tony all turned to watch Eli and Ziva exit the car. The two spoke before Ziva took steps towards them then stopped.

Gibbs urged Vance & DiNozzo to board the plane as he headed over to see what was keeping Ziva from joining them. His apprehension skyrocketed the closer he got to her. Her anxiety was all over face and it made him fear that he was about to faced with a choice that wasn't really a choice. The sound of wings filled his head, louder than ever before, nearly blocking out her halting words. He'd had no other choice but to kiss her cheek and wish her well before he turned to board the plane. He thought Ziva understood that DiNozzo was more than just a team mate and that he would never not choose him after all the two of them had been through. It hurt to realize that he'd been wrong. He couldn't see himself getting beyond this betrayal.

He'd been unable to banish the voice of Mike Franks for days. He'd snarled, growled and even swore at his deceased mentor to no avail. Now he was looking at the possibility of major losses to the agency and to his team and there was Franks behind Bishop's desk, puffing on the ever-present cigarette and gloating how Jethro should have listened to him. He barely heard a phone ringing over the voice.

McGee was alive! But they'd lost Dornegat! The team was still piecing all of the details together. Gibbs was desperate to locate the child Daniel Budd had brainwashed. He knew he could help him, save him. But that would be later. Now he stood, part of a makeshift honor guard as they waited for the military plane that had just taxied over to open its rear hatch so that the body of one of their own could be officially brought home. 

Just as the large flap began to slowly rise and a small figure, stood with others next to a metal box, Gibbs's attention was grabbed by fading figures off to the side. He stared, blinked his eyes and stared harder. Kate, Franks, Pacci, Paula, Jenny and Dornegat were all staring at him. He looked over at the others but they didn't seem to see what he did. He stared , unable to look away, wondering if they would now haunt him for the rest of his days.

Dornegat's CIA-operative mother had wormed her way onto the case. Gibbs understood her need to be involved only too well. Now she was with him and DiNozzo as they traveled to the Middle East to hunt down Budd, thanks to her contacts and leads. When he spotted the boy in the marketplace, Gibbs knew he had another chance to save him. Joanna and Tony were busy scouting around for Budd, but Gibbs focused on this single mission he'd given himself. He froze as the child pointed a gun at him – the thought had never entered his mind that this small child would be capable of such an act.

So much loss, pain and regret. So many memories he had swept from his mind, buried deep behind walls so as not to remember the joy. Since getting shot by the boy and returning stateside, his constant companion was the low hum of birds' wings in his head. At least he'd finally banished the ghosts who had seemed to follow him daily. That included banishing Franks, who had seemed like a constant companion since the old codger was murdered. 

Gibbs leaned forward to adjust the ice pack on his knee. Physical therapy had been trying earlier with the therapist expecting him to be much farther along in the healing than he was. He'd tried so hard but the joint just would not bend as far as he'd pushed. The therapist had shook his head and decreed that he'd still needed to come every day for at least another week before he'd reevaluate his progress and make any recommendations on when he could return to work. 

He wasn't sure what part pissed him off the most – the pain, the lack of improvement, the fact that he wasn't able to decide for himself since Leon was being a directorial ass and holding him to needing full medical release before even returning to desk duty. Then there was his latest worry, that he had not been able to reach DiNozzo for a couple of weeks and none of his team would divulge any information to him.

Anger boiled in his gut over the subterfuge. DiNozzo would feel his wrath when he was finally released. It was not his job to go after Daniel. That role had always belonged to Gibbs – from the time he went after Hernandez to avenge the deaths of his family. He didn't know what Tony was thinking and didn't care. No one was better than he was at extracting revenge and Tony knew that. 

All around him, growing slowly louder, the sound of wings filled his ears, blocking out his thought, heralding trouble coming. He ignored it as the sound had been his near constant companion for months. His anger grew and he knew only a single thought. Tony would pay for shutting him out and taking over with the team and obviously seeking revenge. Gibbs needed people around him who supported him – especially now. It was time he let his 'partner' know that he'd over stepped his role and needed to consider his behavior or his options.

The wings continued to flap, the sound increasing, the warning ignored….


End file.
